Once Upon a Funeral
by Five Minutes Til Bedtime
Summary: Shawn dies in a ditch. It turns out death isn't all it's cracked up to be. One-shot.


Title: **Once Upon a Funeral**

Summary: Shawn dies in a ditch. It turns out death isn't all it's cracked up to be. One-shot.

Fandom: Psych

Word Count: 1,460

* * *

It was never Shawn's plan to end up dead in a ditch, but then one rarely gets to decide on such matters.

It is amazing how quickly a person can get used to be being dead. Shawn was expecting denial, and was quite frankly was still a little disturbed by his lack of it. Then again, waking up in a ditch, only to stand up and see his corpse lying dead at his feet was a kind of proof that couldn't be refuted.

So, Shawn moved on. He was dead. Now what?

It turns out that question was an easier one to answer than he thought, especially upon stepping out onto the road and nearly getting run over by a semi-truck. Shawn thought the various sci-fi movies he'd rented over the years had made it pretty clear that ghost and spirits or whatever the hell he was couldn't be seen by the living. Apparently not so.

He could also touch things quite easily he discovered, when the shaken truck driver who nearly ran him over rolled down a window and offered him a ride into town.

So, he was dead, but people could still see him and he could still touch things. He didn't know quite how to feel about that, but of course there were other senses to be accounted for.

He had the truck driver (lovely man named Harry who had a wife and a kid, only one of which he loved) drop him off in front of his favorite slushy place. The pimply kid behind the counter (Greg) gave him his usual without batting an eye. The pineapply goodness tasted like heaven on earth – same as always.

So, he was dead, but people could still see him and he could still touch things and slushies tasted the same.

He didn't have a sudden craving for brains. There were not bite marks on his necks or voodoo totems hidden in his clothes.

He _was _pretty sure his heart wasn't pumping and his skin might have felt just a _touch _cooler than normal but – all things considered – it was not a bad bill of health. Certainly it wasn't enough to constitute taking a permanent leave of absence.

Shawn went to work. It is amazing how much being dead made him want to work. Not that Shawn hadn't always enjoyed his job – not everyone could be a psychic detective after all – but usually that was tempered by an equally large drive to goof off. Now, he wanted nothing more than to crack his hands into a new case.

The office was just as he'd left it – mainly a mess on his side and an attempt on tidiness on Gus's. Speaking of the magic head of wonder, Shawn's best friend was laid out on the couch, snoring heavily, feet crossed over each other and mouth open wide. Shawn grinned at the sight – heaven really wouldn't be worth it without Gus there. The sight of his friend was enough to reassure Shawn that he wasn't missing out on anything up the proverbial stairs.

"Gus! Hey, buddy. Wake up!" Shawn sang as he kicked his friend's feet off the arm of the sofa and sat down. Gus snorted in a startled Pumba sort of way, and then sat up with a grimace. His first action was to shoot Shawn an irritated glare. Shawn thought this was a bit unfair. Where was the respect for the dead nowadays?

"What do you want Shawn? I was sleeping."

Shawn's grin was wide. "Yeah, well, I'm dead so beat that."

Gus rolled his eyes. "Just because Lassiter points his gun at you and says bang does not make you dead, Shawn. Though if you continue to annoy him that just might change."

"No, really Gus, I'm dead," Shawn insisted cheerfully.

"Shawn – "

"My skins all cold."

"It's January, try a jacket."

"I've got no pulse."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"My body's lying in a ditch outside of town. I had to ride with a truck driver named Harry to get back to town."

"I – really?" Shawn nodded eagerly. "You _hitched hiked_, Shawn? Haven't you watched _The Hitcher_? There are axe-murderers out there."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "You're missing the point here, Gus."

"No, what I'm missing is my nap."

With those eloquent words Gus promptly rolled over and buried his head into the couch. No amount of prodding and poking from Shawn could make the man lift his head or do much more than snore (loudl and fake) gleefully.

Finally Shawn sat back with a sigh.

"Huh. See if _you _get invited by my funeral then."

This statement provoked no response. Shawn got up and shrugged. Time to see someone who would admire (or at least acknowledge) his deadly awesomeness. Pun fully intended.

His dad took one look at him and promptly slammed the door.

Juliet walked past him with a stack full of files so high she couldn't even see him as she scurried by.

Lassiter snorted, glanced up, then down, and then shot out of his chair so fast Shawn looked about for bees.

"You're dead," the man said, eyes wide open and hand inching towards his firearm. Shawn's face broke out in a wide smile.

"_Finally! _Someone who believes me."

"You're _dead._"

"Yep."

"_Dead_ dead."

"That's what I said. Oh look a rhyme."

"Dead as in not _alive_."

"I'd have to ask Webster for the definition, but _yes._"

"Huh."

Lassiter stared at Shawn. Shawn stared at Lassiter's hand on his rifle, then back at the man himself. He swallowed.

"Zombie?"

"Haven't been craving brains lately, so no."

"Vamp?"

"No bite. I checked."

"Ghost?"

"That's what I'm running with. The myths don't exactly line up though, seeing as were having this conversation."

"Hm."

"Lassie?"

"What, Shawn?"

"Mind putting that gun down? I'm pretty solid and well, I've been shot enough times in life to know I don't want to get shot in death, either."

Lassiter stared at Shawn. Shawn stared down the barrel of Lassiter's gun. Slowly, the weapon was lowered.

"You look pale."

"No heartbeat. Feeling kind of chilly too."

"Where your body?"

"In a ditch outside of town. Not exactly the glamorous way I was hoping to go."

"Expecting fireworks and a procession?"

"I thinking more a line full of beautiful women, an explosion in the background, and an epic death speech – but yeah, the sentiment's the same."

"Know who did it?"

"Not a clue. Can't remember."

"And the 'spirits'." Lassiter's tone was mocking.

"Mum's the word."

"So you've got nothing."

"Yep."

In that moment, the chief walked into Lassiter's office and tossed a case file at the man. "Got a weird one for you. A body was found outside of town – no signs of death. Not a wreck either and he doesn't look like a druggie. No car nearby and no ID."

Shawn and Lassiter exchanged glances.

"No one we recognize?" he asked.

O'hara lifted her brows. "It says John Doe on the file, doesn't it?"

"He didn't look blonde, handsome and dashing," asked Shawn, pointing at himself. She glanced at him, furrowing her brow.

"What are you doing here, Spencer? You weren't called in."

"Just talking to Lassie here."

"Well don't," she told him. "I don't need you distracting my officers.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Whatever. Carlton, you might as well take him with you. I've got Juliet on desk duty so you'll be lacking a pair of eyes."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright then." She turned to go, but paused by the door and looked between the two of them suspiciously. "Anything I need to know about boys?"

Shawn and Lassiter glanced at each other. As one they both shook their heads.

"No, chief."

"Not the thing."

She stared shrewdly at them both for a moment more. Finally, she turned her back and left.

Then men sagged in relief for a brief moment. Then Lassiter turned to Shawn.

"No one is to know of this, understand. It was a joke, you got it?"

"Roger that, star captain. I'm the most liveliest man on the planet."

"Well bury the body and then head to the crime scene. I can't believe I'm saying this, but want you with me until this perp is caught. No running off."

"Aw, Lassie. You _do _care!"

Lassiter growled. Picking up his jacket they made for the exit.

Shawn, being Shawn, couldn't help but push it. "So – no, funeral?"

"No."

"You're really gonna make me bury myself like a pet goldfish without even a few words and a funeral pineapple?"

"I had a goldfish, once. When he died, I cried over the toilet bowl. Burying you is going to be a dream come true."

There was a pause. Both men climbed into a cruiser.

"Figuratively speaking, right Lassie?"

"Lassie?"


End file.
